


Dylan Brooks' Adventures

by NavyInk



Series: My Own Characters [1]
Category: My Own World
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Descriptions of Sickness, Dylan's mum has it, Fluff, Just me wanting to write for my characters really, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of homophobia, My own character, OC, OC works, Please be careful while reading, Sad, mentions of bullying, mentions of dementia, mentions of illness, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NavyInk/pseuds/NavyInk
Summary: A bunch of little oneshots (maybe some that have a part two or three) about one of the characters I created. Not all of these works are canon, of course, but I will state which ones come from a prompt generator and don't.
Series: My Own Characters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872577
Kudos: 1





	1. Introduction.

This is a little introduction chapter, but it will be nothing to do with Dylan. This series may be messy and you may not enjoy it, but it is a way for me to write about my characters when I have muse and actually publish them. I have a lot of characters I like to write about, but those will each get their own little works, which will be added to my series of characters. Anyway, thank you for reading this bit and I hope you come back when I actually update with a chapter. I hope that'll be soon and I hope you'll enjoy.


	2. Not So Happy Anniversary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan is feeling emotional, so he decides to relive some happy memories. Only, it doesn't exactly go to plan.

Early that morning, at 2 am, Dylan was woken up to the sound of things falling, crashing and glass shattering across the floor, followed by a scream and a curse from his father. It wasn't a small, quiet one either; it was pained, and agonizing for Dylan to listen to, so he got out of his bed and hurried downstairs to check on his father. Fumbling on the stairs for a moment, Dylan could hear his father now quietly mumbling curses from the kitchen, and when he finally made it to him, he saw him reaching up to the top shelf, raking around for something he couldn't see in the dark on the kitchen light, while he kept his other hand to his side. 

Dylan flicked on the kitchen light, the kitchen being too dark for him to see what exactly happened without it, and his father, Oliver, flinched, bringing the hand down from the shelf to cover his eyes protectively from the suddenly bright room. Dylan was about the ask him what happened, but that's when he saw it: the mess that was the kitchen...

Over the stove, there was two shelves they kept their mugs on, as there was no space for them in the cupboards and building another small shelf for them was cheaper than building a whole new cupboard just for mugs. Now, the top shelf had been knocked over, sending the mugs off of it and to the counter or floor, hitting the bottom shelf out of place and... injuring his dad's hand. So that's why he was trying to keep the other one hidden. There was glass all over the floor and counter, even a few splinters of wood, which likely chipped off when the two shelves collided with each other. That area of the kitchen was a state, but all Dylan cared about was his dad's hand. The kitchen could be cleaned later, his dad's hand would get infected if he didn't clean that. 

So, he sprung into action, careful to avoid all of the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor, and to a cupboard just two away from the one Oliver was searching in. He grabbed the first aid kit, and sighed gently. Neither of them had said anything yet, just stared at each other and the mess, but someone had to say something. 

"We moved the first aid kit, remember?" Dylan said softly, placing down the bag and opening it, looking for a wipe and some bandages. "That shelf is just for medication now, Mom's on the right, our's on the left." 

"Yeah... I just wasn't thinking, I was panicking," Oliver mumbled. 

"You did just cut your hand," he mused, pulling out the bandages and the wipes, "and speaking of, let me help." 

Oliver shook his head, reaching out with his other hand for the bandages and wipe but frowned as soon as Dylan pulled them further away from him. 

"Dylan," he warned. "Give me the bandages and go back to bed. I can deal with this myself, and you need your sleep."

Dylan huffed out his cheeks in frustration. Why was his dad always like this? He only wanted to help. 

"So do you," he protested. "You have work tomorrow, actually, you have it later today, but I don't have school - it's a Saturday, dad." He explained, relaxing his shoulders when he saw his dad put his hand down, no longer trying to reach for the contents in Dylan's hand. "Thank you, now come on, let's go sit down on the couch so I can fix your hand properly."

Oliver seemed like he wanted to protest, however, seeing Dylan so desperate to simply help him made him cave. He made his way to the couch, sitting down comfortable with his hand on his lap do Dylan could see. Sitting down next to him after he turned the light on, Dylan gasped. His hand was worse than he first thought or saw; almost his entire palm was covered in blood, both drying and fresh; and, while the cut was small, it ran deep into the palm of his hand. Not deep enough for stitches, but deep enough for it to take more than a few days to heal. 

"Dad..." Dylan mumbled quietly, opening the wipe and beginning to clean the wound and the blood around it. 

Oliver flinched. "Careful, Dylan, please." 

"I could say the same to you, you know? You're the one who cut your hand." He said softly, though there was something more to his tone, something a little angrier. "What were you thinking, dad? You didn't even turn the lights on, tried to grab a mug and then knocked a shelf off and decided to what, clean up the mess with your bare hand?"

"Dylan." Oliver said sternly. 

"No, don't do that. I know I'm being rude, but I'm worried about you, so I have a right to be mad. So tell me, seriously, what were you thinking?" 

"I was trying to make myself a cup of coffee, but I stumbled, tried to grab the shelf for balance and it fell as I did. I put my hand on the counter to try and help me back up, and I put my hand on a bit of a shattered mug, so I cut my hand. You came down when I was-" 

"Looking for the first aid kit, yeah.." he nodded and bit his lip. "But why were you making coffee? It's like 2 am." 

"Can't sleep." He shrugged. 

"Did you even try?" He asked, receiving no answer. "Did you?" He prompted. 

"No, I didn't but I still know I can't. I never can around this time of year, you know that." 

Dylan sighed, because he did, in fact, know that. He knew his father got like this in the months leading up to the first of October, and he had every year since his mum had gotten sick when Dylan was five. October 1st was their wedding anniversary, and now that his dad couldn't celebrate it with his mum, he really started to hate that time of year, and he always started to care for himself less around those times too. It was hard to watch for Dylan. Having to watch the father who raised him, cared for him, protected him, loved him and taught him to love himself all his life turn into someone who can't love himself felt like torture for Dylan, but every year, without fail it happened. 

When Dylan was younger, his father would always hire a sitter for him around this time of year, so that if he was ever out late with work, or had to leave early (not that he ever had to, he just had to be out of the house sometimes), there was always someone there for Dylan. He never wanted Dylan to be alone, even if he needed to be, and when it passed the first of October, Oliver would start going back to normal and spend every night, hugging Dylan, falling asleep with him, reading him bed time stories, promising he still loved him, promising he'd always be there and pulling himself together more. It always made Dylan happy when Oliver acted like that again. The sitter was always nice to him, but he really did miss his dad. 

Then Dylan got older, and so he asked his dad why it always happened, and his dad told him. It made Dylan cry, and he hugged his dad for ten minutes, but ever since then, he'd made sure to watch out for his dad around this time of the year. He doesn't want his dad to feel alone, even if he wants to be. 

So yes, Dylan did know, and that's why he also knew that when he took his father up to bed after he bandaged his hand up, he didn't go back to sleep. Dylan knew Oliver would've stayed awake, lying in bed and thinking, even if Dylan asked him to at least try. Which is why when Oliver trudged down the stairs at 8:30 am, looking worse than before, Dylan really couldn't say he was surprised anymore. 

He watched as Oliver, with his hunched back and baggy eyes, made his way into the kitchen , dragging his slipper covered feet behind him, barely making an effort to pick them up. Normally Dylan would complain; the annoying dragging sound of the slippers on the floor making him want to scream, but he didn't want to yell at his father right now. He was fragile and delicate, so Dylan needed to be careful, because he didn't want to make this worse for him. 

"Hey dad," he said, standing up from the couch and following Oliver into the kitchen. "I already made you breakfast... so I could let you rest for as long as possible, and I'll make you a coffee while you get ready for work. That is... if you're feeling up for work."

"Even if I wasn't, I'd be going." Oliver said, but his face soon turned to a smile, "and thank you for making me breakfast, son, it means a lot." 

"You're welcome, and I know you really want to work right now, but if you want or need to take a day off work, you know it won't be that bad, right?" 

"Dylan..." he trailed off. 

"I know what you're going to say. You need to work right now, and you need to bring in more money, and working helps you, I know. But I just want you to know that you can take a day off. You deserve it, dad." 

"Thank you.." he said softly, straightening up his back. "I appreciate it, I do... but I'm still going to get dressed for work. See you in ten. yeah?" 

"Okay," Dylan smiled as Oliver left the room, but once he was out of ear shot, he sighed. He really wanted his dad to take a day off of work; last night was a rough night, for them both. His dad deserved a day off after that, just like he told him, and well... Dylan wasn't quite sure if he deserved it, but he wanted his dad to stay off of work so they can cuddle. He misses his mum being around so much, not just being at the hospital, not speaking or talking, even if he barely remembers her. It's hard for him too, and so he really wants to spend the day cuddling with his dad and watching stupid comedy movies to cheer them both up. 

Quickly and suddenly, after realising he could've been caught in his thoughts for too too long, he moved to make a cup of coffee to go for his dad, and clicked the kettle on, getting out a reusable cup from the cupboard. Oh- and he still had to clean the rest of the glass from the counter. Last night he only had time to do the floor, as he was too tired to do the rest and didn't wanna risk an accident because he was sleepy. But he'd do that once his dad left. 

Thankfully, just as he poured the coffee into the cup, his dad walked into the kitchen, in his office uniform. They exchanged a smile, as Dylan handed him the cup, yet Oliver moved to put it down. Once he did, he brought his son into a tight hug, embracing him happily as Dylan did the same to him. 

"I love you, Dylan, I promise I do. I know I retract at this time of the year, but that doesn't mean I don't still love you and appreciate what you do for me. You know that, right?" 

"I know, dad, I know, and I love you too. Just promise me you won't push yourself too hard at work today. You had a long night." Dylan whispered in his ear. 

Oliver chuckled weakly, not because he found something funny, but Dylan worried about him like he worries about Dylan and he was happy they had that bond. "I promise." He smiled. "No pushing myself too much today." 

"Good," Dylan said as he pulled away. "Now," he hummed, taking the bag with his dad's breakfast in and coffee cup from the side, and handing them to him, "go, you'll be late for work if you don't leave now and I know you'll way later even if you're only ten minutes late to make up for it with your boss." 

"That's what good employees do," he shrugged. 

"But this good employee likes to overwork himself, and that's not good. Now go," Dylan said with a smile, waving him off as his dad left. 

"Bye," they both called out to each other, just as the door shut. 

After his dad left, Dylan decided to make himself some breakfast, since he hadn't eaten yet. It was nothing too fancy, some eggs on toast with some bacon, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He washed the dishes once he was done, and got to work cleaning the kitchen. It started by him simply cleaning the rest of the glass up, but then he took out the trash, dusted the shelves, polished the counters, removed the broken shelves, and then he moved onto the rest of the house too. 

It was a Saturday, he had nothing to do, and he needed a distraction. Which he got, but he got so distracted, he didn't think anything of it when he started to vacuum the stairs into to the basement; didn't even think not to go in there, where his dad kept all of his mum's stuff when the very thing he needed a distraction from was thinking about his mother.

Before he knew it, he was sat on the dusty floor of the basement, with the vacuum off and tucked away to the side, staring down at the three old photo albums he found on top of one of the boxes. He probably shouldn't have opened these, but each one looked so carefully cared for, and on the front had handmade titles that described what was in them. One was completely his parents, older pictures from when they started dating, to ones right up to just before his mum got pregnant with him (he could tell by the dates written on the back of the photos he saw when he took the photos out to look). Another, smaller, one was made up of just their wedding photos. It had photos of them getting hair and makeup done, with their friends and family, of the ceremony, the after party, the honey moon. But the last one was the one that caught Dylan's eye the most was the last one he cam across, simply entitled 'The Family', and when Dylan opened it up, he saw pictures of himself with his mum and dad, too young to remember what he was actually doing. All he knows is he was clearly happy in them. 

One of them is them at the part, presumably on a picnic, what with the checkered blanket and food basket next to them. His dad had an armed wrapped around his mum, holding her close as he placed a kiss to the top her her head, and Dylan was lying across both of their laps, giggling and smiling away to himself. He was so young, and so... unbelievably happy. 

Tears brimmed his eyes, but he kept them at bay, not wanting to cry right now. He'd only seen a few photos anyway, and he figured it couldn't get much worse, so no point in crying. But he was very, very wrong. 

Another one was them at the zoo, with Dylan atop his father's shoulders, pointing at the pretty flamingos behind them, and his father acting surprised that they were there for Dylan, even if he'd seen them a minute ago. His mother must've been the one taking the photo, as she wasn't in it, but her jacket was hooked around the back of Dylan's pushchair (which he was sure he only used when his legs got tired at this point). That was her favourite jacket - she took it everywhere. Some of Dylan's oldest (and only) memories of her involve her wearing that jacket. He doesn't remember exactly why it was, though he was sure she explained it to him in some way a child would understand, but he does know it has something to do with his dad. 

So he was sure that if he looked around, he'd find it, and he did, within the first thirty seconds of looking. It was hung on a coat rack carefully, and so Dylan carefully picked it up and sat with it, over his knees. He knew his dad wouldn't mind as long as he didn't ruin it. After all, it was still his mum's stuff too. 

The next photo that brought him to tears was one with only his mum and him. He must've just finished a day at kindergarten and it must not have been long before his mum got sick. But she didn't look it at the moment, she looked happy and healthy and proud. Proud because Dylan had just won something. It wasn't much, a silly little certificate and a bag of sweets for working hard all of that week. Dylan knew now that being the hardest worker in kindergarten wasn't the hardest thing to achieve, but back then, he clearly thought it was the best thing ever, given his wide, toothy grin from ear to ear, and so his mum was proud of that too, and she was giving him a large, seemingly warm hug. Dylan doesn't remember that day too clearly, but he knows he always loved his mum's hugs, and he knows for a fact that she gave some of the best hugs possible. 

He continued to flick through the photo album more, and for a little bit, things are good. He and his parents look happy, and healthy, but eventually, he notices his mother getting sicker. It's evident, even in the photographs. He sees her getting paler, thinner, can see her paying less attention to him and his father (at no fault of her own, she had concentration problems), and can see her becoming retracted. Then, she disappears from the photographs all together, and soon there's more of a gap between the when the photographs were taken. Neither of them were happy then, Dylan knew that for sure, and he figured his dad didn't want photos to remind him of it. 

He closed the book, knowing he wouldn't be able to look at any more photos, as he was already crying. Hot tears streamed down his face, rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his lap, as he struggled to choke back a sob, not wanting to cry out here and now. On instinct, he hugged his mother's jacket tight, hoping it would give him the same feeling as one of her hugs. Alas, it didn't, yet he kept hugging it, hoping the feeling would just.. come back to him. He really needed a hug from his mum right now, or anyone. He needed comfort. His missed his mum so much. Missed her voice, missed her laugh, and he barely remembered her. 

A while later, or maybe even just a few minutes (he really isn't sure how long it was), he was still crying but a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him, and began to rub his back soothingly, and a voice began to shush him gently. He would've recoiled if he didn't recognise the voice, but he did... it was his dad. 

Why was his dad back from work this early? Dylan was positive he would've managed to clean up the basement before his dad was home, but his dad was here, now. 

"What happened, Dylan?" Oliver asked softly, running his hands through Dylan's hair to soothe him. "What's wrong?" 

"I... started cleaning," he whispered, for fear that if he spoke to loud, he'd start crying again and his voice would break. Even his whisper was shaky. "Just so you- you didn't have to when you came back. I- I wanted... wanted to give you one less job to do, so you could... y'know, relax when you got back, and well... I needed a distraction too. It upsets me this time of year... and I miss her so- so much too. But I came down here with.. without thinking and... I ended up seeing the photo albums. I figured a... a little look couldn't hurt, and so I kept looking and here I am." He mumbled quietly, pulling his mother's jacket closer. 

"Dylan..." Oliver said softly, placing a kiss on top of Dylan's head as he continued to stroke his hair. "Dylan, I know how much you miss her. I know this isn't easy on you either, and I know how I act really doesn't help. But I'm still your dad, Dylan, and so I still want you to talk to me about this. Talk to me when you miss her, when you want to know stories, when you want to visit her, when you want to look at photo albums. I'll tell you if I can't handle it," he gave Dylan a gentle smile. "You still have me, even if she's... not fully here, and I promise you won't lose me too. I'll always be here for you and we can get through this together. Promise."

Dylan looked up at him, his breathing back to normal and his cries calmed down, though there were still tears in his eyes, and he smiled softly at him. It still hurt, but his dad was here, and they were going to get through this together. That he believed. He cuddled closer, not wanting to move just yet, and hugged him back finally, letting out a quiet sigh. 

"Thank you," Dylan mumbled. 

"You're welcome, anything for you..." he replied, before pulling away gentle. "Now, we can go through some more photo albums later if you want, but I took a few hours I was owed back and finished early today. Figured maybe we could watch some old comedy movies together, have some popcorn and chocolate, and relax? Neither of us have anything to do tomorrow, so we can do it then too." 

"Are you sure you'll be fine doing nothing for today and tomorrow?" Dylan asked. 

"Honestly, I don't know." Oliver answered. "But if I need time alone, I'll go for a walk, if not, I'll stay with you. We both need this."

So, they cleaned up the basement, which didn't take long as all they had to do was put some photos away and hang a jacket up. They were done soon, and Dylan went to head back upstairs when his father called him back into the basement. He handed him his mum's jacket again, and smiled. 

"It's cold in the house, and this looks about your size." He stated. "You should wear it." 

No it wasn't cold in the house....

"No, it's not and I have hoodies I can wear if it does get cold-" 

"Dylan, I want you to have it. She would've wanted you to have it as well. I know she would, because you always tried it on when you were little, claiming it looked like a cape, and you were a superhero," he said softly, earning a laugh from the both of them. "She said she wanted you to have it when you got older, if it made you feel like a superhero, so take it. You're older now so you might as well take it." 

"Thanks dad, that... means a lot," Dylan said softly and slipped into it. 

It felt a little weird at first, but his mum wanted him to have it... so it didn't feel too weird wearing it for long. 

With that, they went upstairs, and got ready to watch a movie. Both of them put their pajamas back on, and Oliver made snacks while Dylan chose a movie. They ended up watching all three home alone movies (who cares if people think they're Christmas movies), and all the back to the future movies over the course of the next day and a half. The weekend hadn't led to getting much done in the house, but Dylan felt so much better, and he knew his dad did too. They both for exactly what they wanted, and even if they wouldn't admit it, needed. It was a good weekend for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! <3


	3. It Was Hers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bullying
> 
> Dylan decides to wear his mum's jacket to school, wanting to keep it close now it was coming up to her birthday and he wouldn't be able to see her, but everything goes wrong.

Dylan had to drag himself to school that morning, tired and exhausted from the lack of sleep he'd gotten that night. It had been a rough few days for both him and his father, so Dylan didn't have time to do his homework for this week, which meant he had to rush to finish it all last night, and that wasn't exactly easy. He wasn't sure if they came out well, given he had to write two three page essays, and read half of a book for his french class and still get some sleep, but at least they were done and teachers wouldn't be able to yell at him for failing to do his homework. 

That morning he'd gotten up in a rush too, throwing on the nearest pair of clothes and his mum's jacket since it was her birthday but he wasn't allowed to see her at the hospital, and left the house, barely even saying goodbye to Oliver. He grabbed breakfast on the go, deciding to only have a bagel and a cup of coffee to keep him awake on his way to school, and now he was searching through his locker, looking for his history text book. He could've sworn he put it in here somewhere. All of his other text books were in here, why wasn't his history text book? He kept them all together, he knew he did-

Oh, he gave it to Cam so he could revise his notes if he wanted for the history test they had on Friday, and he'd never asked for it back. He checked the time, and it was almost time for class; he really hoped Cam was in and didn't decide to skip today. Please let him be in. 

Hurriedly, Dylan headed to his locker, figuring that would be where he was if he was in, and he was, thank god, but he was... also surrounded by all of his 'friends' that Dylan wasn't exactly fond of. Well, that was an understatement. He hated them so much and there was a few reasons why: one, they were terrible people who encouraged Cam's bad habits and really didn't help him at all, and two, a few of them had bullied him for a few years now and he'd never told anyone, not even his dad. Then he started dating Cam, and turns out he'd friends with them. He knows Cam doesn't know, but he can't bring himself to tell him because that would mean telling Cam about the bullying, otherwise he'd never listen, and Dylan couldn't do that. 

Swallowing the lump in the back of his throat, Dylan rushed over to his boyfriend, eyes trained on the dirty floors of his school. He tapped Cam on the shoulder, and once he knew he'd gotten his attention, he pulled him to one side. 

"Hey, do you have my history text book I gave you last week?" Dylan asked, now looking up at his boyfriend. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I do. It's in my locker, I actually forgot to take it home," he said softly, chuckling as he turned to head back to his locker. "Are you not coming back with me?"

"I was just gonna grab my history text book and get to class. I have it first and I don't want to be late, given how bad the essay I'm about to turn in is." He shrugged. 

"Okay, whatever. I'm sure it's not that bad, but I'll be quick grabbing your text book." Cam smiled. 

Cam shimmied his way through his friends, over to his locker, and Dylan couldn't help but watch him, not wanting to look around at any of his friends. But... one of them, one of the ones who bullied him, stepped just into view shot and glared at Dylan. A shiver ran down his spine, and he averted his gaze almost immediately. He couldn't stand looking at them, they made him shake with fear at times. 

"Here," Cam called out, pushing passed his friends again gently to get to Dylan. "Got it, here you go, and I'll see you in class." 

"So you're not coming with me?" He pouted. "I was hoping you would." 

"No, I was going to ditch again for a little bit," Cam said, and Dylan looked like he was about to interject when Cam continued, "I know, I know you don't approve and think I should stay in school. But it won't be for long, only history, yeah? I'm pretty sure I failed the test and I don't wanna have to deal with the teacher. Besides, I won't get caught and if I do, I'll have these guys to take the fall with me." 

"That still sound like a really bad plan..." Dylan mumbled and sighed. "Okay, but please don't be gone all day. I want to spend some time with you... I kind of need to." 

Cam furrowed his brows. "Why?" 

"It's..." Dylan trailed off for a moment, deciding to lower his voice so it was almost inaudible. "It's my mum's birthday." 

"Oh," Cam eyes widened, and his already gentle gaze became sweeter. "Dylan, I'm so sorry. I had no idea, and I promise I won't be gone all day. I'll be back so we can spend some time together," he said softly, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Dylan's lips. "It'll be okay, and I'll be back before you know it." 

"Okay, I trust you..." he whispered, nodding his head. "Don't do anything too stupid, please." 

"No promises," Cam replied as he gave him another kiss, and started to walk away. He gave a laugh afterwards, because both him and Dylan knew he probably wouldn't do something stupid but it wasn't going to to be too stupid today, not when Dylan needed him. 

Dylan turned to walk away too, but he didn't miss the sly looks two of Cam's friends shared with each other after he did. He hated that look. He ignored it, nonetheless, and headed straight for his history class, book gripped tightly in his hands. He got to history just on time, and shimmied to his seat at the back of the class, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone as he did so. Normally he wouldn't and he'd try to say hi to a lot of people, wanting to be as friendly as possible with as many people as possible - it was just who he was - but the encounter with his bullies, though only a look, mixed with the day it was made him uneasy, and he was too nervous too look at anyone else in case they saw right through the facade he was trying to keep up. It would've been simple for them too, and he knew that, he was often told he read like a book. 

History was over before he knew it though, and nothing had gone wrong. Sort of... 

The teacher had graded the tests they did last Friday; Dylan received a high grade; no one had questioned why he looked so off, and pale throughout the entire lesson, but the teacher had noticed Cam wasn't there, along with a few of his friends and since they hadn't received a phone call from home to say they wouldn't be, and not a single person in the class could give a valid reason why they weren't in (but Dylan did try to think of one), they said there would be trouble for them when they came back into school. Hopefully, it wouldn't be detention that night, or detention that lunch time. Dylan really wanted to spend as much time possible with Cam today, and so he was hoping the magical force of fate he didn't even believe him would be on his side today and make sure Cam was free to leave school on time and have lunch with Dylan. 

Guess not. 

At lunch, Cam wrapped his arms around Dylan from behind, surprising his boyfriend with a cute cheek kiss, even if he had to stand on his toes to do it. Dylan turned to him and returned the kiss to his forehead, before pulling Cam into a tight hug, and resting his head beside his ear. There was no warning for this hug, no sign Dylan was going to initiate it, but Cam didn't mind if his boyfriend wanted or needed hugs, he would be happy to give them, and besides, to Cam, Dylan gave the best hugs, so of course he'd love them. Cam made a move to pull away eventually, but Dylan only tightened his grip, trying to wordlessly tell Cam he didn't want to let go. 

Instead, Cam guided them over to the closest seat, as carefully as he could with his arms still wrapped around Dylan, and sat them down. Dylan turned so his head was on Cam's shoulder, but one arm was still stretched across him and wrapped around his side. It was only lunch and Dylan had had a really long day, with his bullies looking at him like that this morning, and continuing to point and laugh from the sidelines all day when they weren't with Cam, and Dylan wasn't either, and the fact he hadn't had a single time to write his annual happy birthday to his mum. It was all just adding up as the day went on, so he needed this, and he wasn't going to let go any time soon. 

"Do you mind this?" Dylan asked, half absentmindedly, half actually worried Cam didn't want to stay like this. 

"No, I don't mind. Just curious as to why you're being so cuddly, not that I mind, I'm just normally the one who wants cuddles and kisses."

"I've just had a really long day, and I miss my mum so much but I can't even go see her today..." 

"Can I ask why?" 

"She... came out of her state yesterday, and started speaking for the first time in a while, but she started getting panicky and anxious so she had a breakdown. They calmed her down but they don't want anything to startle her again so we can't visit for a while." Dylan whispered, turning his head so it was buried in the fabric of Cam's clothes. He was so close to crying and he couldn't do that here, he refused to. 

Cam could sense it in Dylan's voice though, so he ran a hand up to run it through his hair and said nothing, he wasn't exactly sure what to say yet. A moment of silence passed, before Cam placed a kiss to Dylan's head and mumbled, "I'm sorry." 

"Don't... don't be, please. I- god, it's not your fault and I don't want you to waste your energy being sad for me. I just... need you here so I'm not alone." He said, refusing to acknowledge how his voice cracked. 

"You're not." He said softly, carding his fingers through his hair. "But tonight... I have a detention after school for skipping with my friends so I won't be able to walk home with you." 

"Can I just wait?" Dylan asked, almost immediately. "I don't want to walk home alone, to an empty house. But when the detention is over, my dad will be back and he can pick us up and we can spend some time at mine and just... tell your aunt we were studying late.

"You sure you want to wait?" 

Dylan hummed in response, nodding his head a little, and took his hand from around Cam, grabbing his hand with it instead. Eventually he let go off his hand when they needed to eat. and pulled out his lunch from his back. He'd brought some sandwiches in today, not wanting to wait in the lunch line, and he brought an extra chili pepper for Cam in case he couldn't bring one for himself, as he assumed Cam's aunt would not just buy them for Cam, so he always did anyway. Just in case. Besides, he loved the way Cam's face lit up with his beautiful, wide smile when he got handed one of his favourite foods by Dylan, and seeing that always made Dylan smile. Maybe it was a good thing he brought it today. 

They ate lunch together, and Cam did his best to make Dylan laugh as a distraction, and it did work. Dylan found Cam hilarious, he always did, but distractions only work for so long, and soon it was time for them to go back to two different lessons, after agreeing to meet up at the front gates at the end of Cam's detention. Yet, knowing they had another hour to wait after school made the other two hours classes feel even longer than they already were, and Dylan could feel himself become more and more stressed in the two lessons. Today just was not his day. 

He almost forgot to text his dad to ask him to pick him up.

Once the school day finished, Dylan made his way to his locker and put all the textbooks away he knew he wouldn't need for that night, and then decided to head to the school's library to pick out a small book to read while he waited for Cam. Nobody really went and stayed there after school as most people checked a book out and left, even just to go to another room, so it was always pretty quiet and a good place to wait without interruption. Or, at least, it normally was. 

But this time, on his way to the library, he was yanked back by the handle of his back, and thrown roughly against a wall. He grunted at the pain, refusing to look up, because he already knew who was in front of him. It was the two people that bullied him, and he was all alone, and already in a bad mood. He really didn't want to admit this was happening right now.

"Dylan," one mumbled, an Dylan shook his head. "Pathetic little bitch," he continued and Dylan still shook his head, tears already forming in his eyes. 

The other one harshly gripped his arm, so hard it could leave a bruise, and immediately Dylan looked up, staring into their eyes. They had intimidating gazes, and they had their eyes trained on him in this moment, shooting ice cold daggers into Dylan, who was praying for this to be over sooner rather than later. 

"I was surprised when I came back to school and got told I had a detention," the other who wasn't grabbing his arm - the blonde one - said, folding his arms across his chest. "I thought for sure that since you were in your first class with us and your boyfriend, you'd come up with a lie to defend him and get us all out of trouble. Yet you stayed quiet, or made it worse." 

The other - the one with brown hair and blue tips - tightened his grip again, and Dylan whimpered in pain. 

"Stop, please!" He cried out, and tried to push him away, failing miserably as he was not as strong as them. "This was my mum's, and it meant a lot to her, please don't ruin it. Please." He begged. 

"Like I give a shit," the brunette spat, and rolled his arms, reaching back to hold onto Dylan's arm with some force. "You got us into trouble, because you're selfish and didn't even want to help your boyfriend, or because you're actually a bitch, and you don't care what happens to him, or us. You're just in it because you think he's popular, and you think it'll get you somewhere. It won't, trust us. You're too stupid, and everyone hates you, so this won't get you anywhere and once Cam realises that's all your there for, he'll dump you, hate you, and you'll never get close to love again." 

While they were talking, Dylan shook his head frantically as he cried desperately. He knew they were wrong, hell, even they knew they were wrong but they knew the thought of it would get to Dylan and that's exactly what they wanted it too. They only wanted him to feel bad, and they got it. Dylan thought they were about to back away now, so he stopped struggling, and waited for them to leave, but they didn't. No, instead they did something so much worse. The brunette pulled downwards, with so much force Dylan was yanked sideways too, almost falling to his left with the force, but the force also ripped the jacket sleeve. His mum's jacket sleeve. It was ripped. 

Dylan let out a cry, a loud one, but the blonde slapped him - hard - and knocked his foot so he stumbled and fell, cutting of his cry before it got too loud or alarmed to many people. He didn't even bother to get up, not wanting to be knocked down again, and apparently that just spurred them on. 

"Now you're crying on the floor, pathetic just like you," the blonde hummed and knelled down, unzipping Dylan's back as he did. 

Both of them reached in and pulled everything out, throwing them across the corridor floor with a satisfied chuckle that sent shivers down Dylan's spine, and made his hair stand up on end. He would've fought back, but he was too busy clutching the bit of sleeved that had been pulled off, and he really didn't want to annoy them anymore. Soon after that, they left, giggling mischievously to themselves as they went, and left Dylan crying on the floor. 

He didn't know how long he was crying for until he picked himself up and collected his things from the floor, shoving them back into his bag. Once that was done, he took the jacket off, and held it in his hands delicately, like it was a precious gem that would shatter if too much pressure was added, and leaned back against the wall. Slowly, he slid down the wall, and the holding soon became cradling, which became hugging the jacket once he was on the floor. He felt so guilty, for so many things. He broke the jacket, and he shouldn't have worn it to school that day, and he got Cam in trouble all because he couldn't come up with a lie, and his dad was probably going to hate him for this because it was her jacket and-- 

He was pulled into a tight, yet desperate hug, by familiar arms and a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Except it wasn't really whispering, it was more calling out for him to respond, as Cam had been calling his name since he saw him from down the hall, and Dylan was yet to respond. It wasn't exactly his fault, though, he was too disorientated to hear Cam until he was right next to him. 

"Cam..." he mumbled, trailing off, knowing he could not get more than a sentence or so out before his voice cracked. 

"Dylan, what happened?" Cam quickly asked, running his hand up and down his back to relax him. 

"No, not here." Dylan shook his head lightly, and his grip tightened on the back of Cam's jacket. "Anywhere but here." 

"Okay, we can talk about it at your house," Cam whispered, not wanting to push Dylan to talk here. "Your dad's outside, we were waiting for you, so I decided to come look for you. I was worried." 

"Sorry, didn't realise how long it had been. Should've gotten up sooner." Dylan said, as Cam started to help him too his feet. He brushed his clothes off, and looked down at Cam, eyes red. "Sorry."

"You already said that," Cam hummed softly, guiding Dylan out of the school, not failing to notice Dylan's tight grip on his hand and on his jacket that he was no longer wearing. "But you don't need to be sorry, you just got upset." 

Dylan nodded, and something dawned on Cam. 

"Is this because it's your mum's birthday? And I left you alone because I had detention, I'm sorry."

"No... no don't be. This has nothing to do with you. I'm- I'm not upset because I was alone." 

"Then why?" He asked apprehensively. 

"When we're home..." Dylan mumbled. 

The ride home was a little... awkward to say the least, and no one really said anything. Cam explained Dylan was upset, but didn't want to talk about it, which Oliver respected, and he told Dylan that if he wanted to talk once Cam had gone home, they could. Dylan merely nodded, and gave his father a fleeting smile that was returned by his father's reflection. Oliver asked if they wanted food, both of them answering they only wanted snacks, and nothing was said after that. No one really knew what to say, or even what to do, except Dylan who played with Cam's hands like he always did when he was feeling off. 

"Hey dad..." Dylan said, lifting his head from Cam's shoulder to look forward at his father. "I caught mum's jacket on something at school today, and the sleeve ripped." He passed it forward, placing it in the front passengers seat. "I'm really sorry... is there anyway we can fix it?"

"Don't apologise," Oliver said, and he didn't even look mad at Dylan, and though Dylan feared it was from the fact he had too little energy to be mad, it was simply because he wasn't. Too him, it seemed like an accident, and accidents happen. "I can stitch it up tomorrow, next time just be more careful, please." 

"I will, promise." 

When they arrived home, Oliver placed the jacket on the side carefully and hurried off into the kitchen, while Dylan and Cam headed upstairs. Dylan flopped down onto his bed straight after taking his bag off, and Cam couldn't help but giggle, lying down comfortably next to him. Normally Dylan was the one who help Cam when they cuddled, but Cam figured Dylan needed a hug right now, so he adjusted them, wrapping his arms around Dylan and placing a kiss on the top of his head. 

"Is that why you were so upset before, because you broke your mum's jacket?" 

There was silence for another moment before Dylan sighed, and shook his head. 

"No, well... maybe, sort of. I- okay, I lied to my dad that I ripped it... someone else did, on purpose, but I couldn't tell him that... and that's why I was so upset." 

"Someone destroyed her jacket on purpose?" Cam asked, clearly astonished. "But who, and why?" 

Dylan swallowed gently, and closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. 

"Cam, I don't want to.." 

"Don't want to what? Tell me?" 

"Mess things up. It's too complicated."

"How is it complicated?" 

"It just is!"

"Please, Dylan, tell me how it is. Please." 

"Because it's two of your friends that you skip with! The one with blonde hair and the brunette with blue tips! God, I don't even know their names but they have pushed me around for years and turns out their your buddies that you skip with!" Dylan suddenly snapped out, after having so many emotions build up but never be released, after having so many knots in his stomach thinking about the lies he had to tell, and after so many uneasy feelings knowing he can't tell anyone. 

"Oh..." was all Cam said: he was almost speechless. 

"Oh god, sorry, I just yelled at you and I know you hate being yelled at. I'm not mad at you, I promise." Dylan said quickly upon noticing the tears in Cam's eyes. 

He couldn't tell if it was because of what he had just announced, or because he yelled at him (accidentally, of course), or even both. All he knew was he didn't want Cam to cry, and the tears in his eyes told Dylan he was close to. 

"I know..." Cam mumbled, and Dylan wasn't sure if he really did know or if he was just saying that so they wouldn't talk about him right now, but whatever it was, Dylan was thankful. He needed the reassurance. "Listen Dylan..."

"I love you," Dylan said, interrupting Cam.

Cam smiled gently at him. "I love you too, so much." He replied, taking one of his hands as he knew that always comforted Dylan. 

"Sorry, go on. I just... wanted to tell you that." Dylan said softly, and kissed the back of Cam's hand. 

"I just wanted to tell you we'll get this sorted tomorrow, and we don't have to tell your dad if you don't want, and I'll make sure to never hang out with them again," he stated, and Dylan was about to interrupt but Cam continued so he couldn't. "I promise you, Dylan, you won't have to deal with them anyone, and that you'll be okay... you'll be okay with me, and we'll be okay," he hummed softly, kissing Dylan's temple. "If they ever do bother you, I'm right here, we can talk it out and then I'll deal with them for you..."

"Thank you..." 

"You're welcome." 

Dylan couldn't think of anything else to say to Cam in that moment, so instead, he turned to him, looked lovingly in his eyes and kissed him. It was soft, and gentle, and loving, something their kisses always are, and it was something that Dylan loved about them. He pulled away and stared up at Cam for a moment, before getting comfortable wrapped in his arms again. Not once did he leave go of his hand either, and he randomly kissed the back of his hand, in between the times he fidgeted with his fingers. Cam didn't even mind. They got to relax after a long and stressful day at school, and they got to do it together, so Dylan playing with his hands was nothing. If anything, it probably made him happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! <3
> 
> A/N: Cameron Bae, Dylan's boyfriend, is @wowsheshot 's character!


End file.
